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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294923">Pet Problems</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustABeeWithAPen/pseuds/JustABeeWithAPen'>JustABeeWithAPen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Don't Starve (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dialogue Heavy First half, First time writer, Kittykit - Freeform, One-Shot, Pets, Pets being extremely annoying, Webber Cameo, Wendy cameo, Willow being stupid, Wilson being annoyed, Wx gets a line</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:40:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294923</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustABeeWithAPen/pseuds/JustABeeWithAPen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow brings home a pet and no one is happy about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pet Problems</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Had this idea in a dream and thought it was funny enough to write down. Still pretty short and the first and second halves probably feel really disconnected but I think I'm improving! Once again was Beta read by a close friend who literally improves my writing by like x5 you're all lucky they're here to make this stuff readable.</p><p>((Had to edit it because I like an idiot posted the unedited original draft.))</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Willow… what in science’s name is that?” Wilson asked, staring pointedly at the small feline creature curled around the resident pyromaniac’s legs. Willow was doing the best of her ability to appear inconspicuous, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. </p><p>    “Whatever do you mean?” she replied innocently. </p><p>    “What do I mean?! That, right there!” he asserted, aggressively pointing towards the creature, “The thing sitting on your feet!” The creature was small and rather plump looking, staring at him with its blank pupiless eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken the creature was a much smaller, and friendlier, version of the catcoons they found all around the pig village. As far as Wilson was aware, the things weren’t domesticated like this. At most, you could get them to cough up resources if you fed them, and you were willing to dig through the hairballs. </p><p>    “Oooooh, that!” Willow exclaimed in mock realization, “That, my too serious friend, is Fuzzball! He’s my new pet.” To further prove this point she bent down and picked the cat up, holding it tightly in her arms. The little hairball squirmed slightly, but otherwise didn’t try to escape. </p><p>    “...Fuzzball.” Wilson faltered, staring at his companion in disbelief. </p><p>    “Yup. Fuzzball.”</p><p>    “And… where did <i>Fuzzball</i> come from?” Wilson asked, trying to add emphasis to how important it was. Willow tended to ignore danger in favor of curiosity--he shivered slightly as he remembered when she tried to raise a baby tallbird in camp. For all they knew the little thing was just a trick by Maxwell, and would slit their throats in their sleep!</p><p>    “I dunno,” Willow confessed, too busy snuggling with her “pet” to look Wilson in the eye. “I wasn’t there when he was born, you should ask Fuzzball that.” It took almost all of the scientist’s willpower not to strangle the pyromaniac in front of him. Despite all her uses, she was as infuriating as the fires she started.</p><p>    “Where. Did. You. Find. It?” he articulated, speaking through clenched teeth. Trying to get Willow to talk when she didn’t feel like it was an infuriating task, one he was quite familiar with. The look of guilt which flashed across her face, poorly hidden by the fluffy body of her pet, proved he hit the mark. </p><p>    “Weeeeell, you see,” she began, squeezing the cat tighter, which caused it to yowl slightly. “You know that big hodgepodge area full of tallbirds that you decided to name the ‘Mosaic Biome’ but I wanted to call Tallbird Land?” she offered, and Wilson squinted slightly before nodding. “Well, I sort of found this teeny tiny cave… full of eyeballs.”</p><p>    “E-Eyeballs?!”</p><p>    “Kinda, they were more like glowing spots. Anyway, I reached inside-”</p><p>    “You what??” Wilson exclaimed, ogling Willow like her hair was on fire. She in turn gave a harumph, tilting away from him and swinging her cat as she moved. </p><p>    “Are you going to let me finish or not,” she pouted, and the scientist sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before gesturing for her to go on. “Thank you,” she huffed, continuing on with her tale. “As I was saying, I reached inside and after feeling around I found Fuzzball here,” Willow held the now struggling creature up, “and then I came back here!” Wilson had no words, and just wordlessly flailed his arms in exasperation. </p><p>    “You found a random cave...”</p><p>    “Yup.”</p><p>    “Reached <i>inside</i>…”</p><p>    “Uh-huh.”</p><p>    “<i>And brought home the animal you dragged out?!</i>”</p><p>    Willow smiled. “That’s what happened.”</p><p>    “. . .You’re not going to put it back are you?”</p><p>    “Nope.”</p><p>    Wilson let out a groan, no longer holding back the facepalm as Willow smiled at him. It was almost hard to believe that he was considered the crazy one of their group. There was no reasoning with the fire starter when she had her mind set, and so regretfully he conceded to her demands. Maybe one of the others would be able to talk some sense into her. Some rules did need to be put in place before they did though.</p><p>    “Fine you can keep it, but on a few conditions: you’re going to be the one to feed it, clean up its poop, and play with it. None of the others, especially not me, are going to help you.” he asserted, shaking his finger at her firmly. Willow of course just ignored the gesture, giving the struggling feline an even tighter squeeze. </p><p>    “Thaaaaanks Egghead!” she giggled, pushing past the scientist before he could complain and skipping towards the center of the camp to show their companions her prize. Wilson followed not far behind, kicking a rock slightly with the edge of his shoe and grumbling the whole way. </p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>    Weeks had passed since the little creature joined the family, and it was driving just about everyone at camp up the walls, especially Wilson himself! Willow had been diligently taking care of the little cretin for the first couple of days, before immediately losing interest and trying to dump the animal on the rest of them. If it hadn’t been for Wilson’s interference Webber likely would have done so, but the gentleman scientist made her stick to her promise. This was a decision he would soon come to regret.</p><p>At first it wasn’t too bad, the feline would occasionally rub against their legs--sometimes even scratching at pants--begging for food from anyone and everyone nearby. If any of them were feeling generous they tossed scraps of food and berries to it. No one minded the little cat and they could usually afford to spare some food. The problem was when the creature would come back for round two about 5 minutes later. Some of the survivors would indulge it of course, Webber and Wendy were especially guilty of this, while the others would just ignore it. No matter what you did, however, the outcome was always the same. </p><p>A horrible yowling noise echoed throughout the camp, as Fuzzball demanded his 10th meal of the day. Nothing, besides feeding the damned beast, would shut him up, forcing the survivors to just deal with it. Attempts had been made to abandon the little beasty--WX-78’s suggestion of killing it had been unanimously ignored--but no matter what they tried, the mini catcoon stuck to Willow like glue. </p><p>Everywhere she went, Fuzzball went too, yowling and crying all the way. Not only was the sound so irritating that a few of them wished they could remove their ears, it had the unlucky side effect of alerting everything within a mile radius of their arrival. She had to be taken off of not only hunting duty but rabbit retrieval: the sound so awful that the little mammals would dig their way out of the traps out of pure fear.</p><p>They had all hoped after maybe a week the creature would lose steam, maybe calm down or better yet just pass out from all the screaming it was doing--finally giving them a moment of peace. Yet despite having done this for seven days straight, only stopping to sleep for a couple of hours before waking everyone up with it, the feline just seemed to be getting louder and louder as time went by.</p><p>Finally as a desperate last ditch attempt to rid themselves of the creature, Wilson dragged Willow back to the cave she found him in, and the two of them attempted to forcefully shove the thing inside again. Surprisingly enough this finally worked, and with a strangely comedic “poof” Fuzzball was no more, having disappeared inside the den. </p><p>“Oh thank god,” Wilson sighed, slumping over slightly as he turned away from the den. “Time to head back then, I’m going to set up my tent and spend all afternoon re-WILLOW!!!” He exclaimed, as he turned back around and saw what his companion was holding. Somehow, in the short time between stuffing Fuzzball back into its cave and now, she had gone off and acquired yet another annoyance much to his dismay.</p><p>    “Look! I found a puppy,” she cheered in a merry sing songy voice, and the scientist’s jaw nearly hit the floor. There in her arms, squirming against her grip, was a small hound with their tongue sticking out happily. “Can I keep him pleeeaaaase?” the pyromaniac begged, and Wilson nearly lost his already missing mind. Seems they were doing this. Again.</p>
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